Karma the Chameleon
by ilovetvalot
Summary: When David Rossi is asked to pet sit for Garcia, chaos ensues. When he turns to Derek Morgan for assistance, things get even more complicated. FOURSHOT, Morgan/Garcia. Lighthearted fun
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N - Hello. We have exactly **__**EIGHT**__** days left to NOMINATE your favorite authors and stories in the second annual Criminal Minds Profiler's Choice Awards hosted by "Chit Chat on Author's Corner" forum. Random drawings for TWO $10.00 Amazon gift cards will be given to two lucky nominators. To be considered eligible, all you have to do is fill out a ballot in ten categories or more. Winners will be announced October 16, 2011! So **__**PLEASE**__**, take a trip to the forum and grab those ballots!**_

_**Also, sign-ups for the Criminal Minds Christmas Gift Fic exchange are up and running at the forum. Last year was super successful and we hope this year will be equally so. You have until October 31, 2011 to sign up at the forum. Details for both events are located there! Private message us with any questions!**_

_**And don't forget to friend "Ilovetvalot Fanfiction" on Facebook. We've got a huge collection of talented authors and readers alike just waiting to chat.**_

_As long as karma exists, the world changes. There will always be karma to be taken care of. - Nina Hagen_

**Karma the Chameleon**

**Chapter One**

To say that he was mad would have been an understatement.

Royally pissed off would have been a far better description. He just wasn't real sure who he was angrier at. Was it Morgan for having the audacity to take a bullet in the shoulder? Was it Garcia for sweet talking her way into his good graces? Or, was it himself for being idiot enough to fall for that sneaky vixen's tricks?

Jamming the small key into the metal doorknob on the bright blue door, David Rossi grumbled under his breath as he stepped into the small apartment that was home to his all-too-cheerful co-worker.

"Please water my plants, Superagent," he muttered as he dropped the keys onto the nearby table with a clatter. "Please feed my pet, Superagent. Please check my messages, Superagent," he mimicked caustically. "What in the hell was I thinking in saying yes?"

Stomping toward the small colorful kitchen with its bright yellow walls, he rolled his eyes as he answered himself, "I'll tell you why I said it! I wasn't thinking, that's what was happening. I let that con artist guilt me into becoming her personal errand boy. She's damn lucky if I don't break Morgan's other arm for letting her do this to me."

Of course, what could he really have said? Not one member of their team had been willing to throw themselves on the sacrificial sword and agree to play nursemaid to the horrid patient that was Derek Morgan. And when Penelope had cheerfully volunteered to corral the injured profiler, they had all breathed a collective sigh of relief.

Well, he had….at least until he had received that devious phone call just a few hours ago. Let that be a lesson, he told himself darkly as he reached for the watering pot on the Formica counter. He knew better than to answer his phone on a Saturday morning, didn't he? But, hell, it had been Penelope Garcia.

And as brave as he was with the rest of the world, not even he had the balls to say no to her when she decided that she wanted something from him.

Unfortunately, he'd finally met his match in the whirlwind of a technical analyst and he would be almost willing to bet she could outwit the Pope and all the Cardinals with one hand tied behind her back.

The only bright side was that she was currently inflicting her special brand of torture on Derek Morgan. Now that made Dave smile. Gleefully.

Dropping the watering can in the sink, he flipped on the faucet and pulled his small notebook from his pocket as he waited for the container to fill.

"Okay," he said with a heavy sigh, his dark eyes scanning his notes. "First up," he said, hefting the half full can, "Water the plants in the window sill," he read, striding toward the bay window in the living. Pouring the water over the collection of ferns, he muttered, "Talk to my babies, Agent Rossi. They're living creatures, too." Peering at the plants, he shrugged, "Talk, huh? Fine. Your owner is a psychotic woman that you'll never escape. My sympathies," he grunted, taking a step back. That oughta do it, he thought as he turned back toward the kitchen and peered at his list again.

"Messages," he muttered to himself, pausing to glance at the phone on the counter. No blinking light equated to zip in the message department. Thank God, he thought in silent prayer. Dealing with any of Garcia's kooky friends might just push him over the edge today. And damn it, if he went over, he wanted to drag somebody special with him for company.

Glancing down at his list again, he noted that he had already arrived at his third and final task. Walking toward the aquarium in the hallway, he peered inside. Tilting his head, Dave frowned. "So, you're the one that Kitten kept babbling about, huh?" he asked curiously, squatting to get a closer look at the chameleon that seemed to be watching him through the glass wall. "You don't look as wily as she described you to be," he muttered, taking the top of the aquarium. "I half expected you to be doing back flips and handsprings with a flaming baton in your jaws," he grumbled, turning to put the top on the floor. "Karma, my ass," he huffed. "What the hell kind of name is that for a freaking lizard?" with another shake of his head. "I guess this is the part where I'm supposed to feed you, I suppose," he complained with a long suffering sigh as the chameleon stared back at him.

"Crap," he muttered, looking toward the lizard again. "I forgot your food," he mumbled, hurrying toward the refrigerator again, letting out a not so patient sigh.

Stepping back to the small enclosure a second later, Dave dropped the food into the case. Frowning when the reptile didn't come running as Penelope had indicated she would, Dave's eyes darted around the aquarium. "Karma?" he growled, dropping his hand inside to shake the fake tree limb perched in the corner.

"Oh, no," Dave breathed, his eyes widening as they scanned the aquarium...the table...the hallway tile. "No, no, no, no, nooooo!" he growled, spinning in a circle as his eyes swept the small foyer. "This isn't happening!"

Blinking rapidly as the painted crimson walls of the hallway seemed to spin, Dave reached out a hand to steady himself on the entry table. "Don't panic, Rossi," he admonished himself sternly. "You're a hunter. You've tracked some of the most cunning and ruthless killers this nation has ever seen. You can lure a lizard back to his cage." He had to. Losing Penelope Garcia's beloved household pet simply wasn't an option.

He had the distinct feeling that if he didn't bag that little amphibian soon that he himself would be taking its place in Penelope's aquarium of horrors.

Pressing his lips together as he scanned the wood tiles again determinedly, he shook his head. "Karma!" he called, "Play time's over, Karma," he said seriously.

But little did David Rossi know, playtime was only just getting started for Karma the Chameleon.


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N - Hello. We have exactly **__**SEVEN**__** days left to NOMINATE your favorite authors and stories in the second annual Criminal Minds Profiler's Choice Awards hosted by "Chit Chat on Author's Corner" forum. Random drawings for TWO $10.00 Amazon gift cards will be given to two lucky nominators. To be considered eligible, all you have to do is fill out a ballot in ten categories or more. Winners will be announced October 16, 2011! So **__**PLEASE**__**, take a trip to the forum and grab those ballots!**_

_**Also, sign-ups for the Criminal Minds Christmas Gift Fic exchange are up and running at the forum. Last year was super successful and we hope this year will be equally so. You have until October 31, 2011 to sign up at the forum. Details for both events are located there! Private message us with any questions!**_

_**And don't forget to friend "Ilovetvalot Fanfiction" on Facebook. We've got a huge collection of talented authors and readers alike just waiting to chat.**_

* * *

**Karma The Chameleon**

**Chapter Two**

"Sucker," Karma snickered under her breath as she settled against the bright purple pillow on Penelope's bed, carefully blending her color to match perfectly with the hue of the satiny material. Her newest target had been soooo freaking easy, she congratulated herself gleefully. If she'd had arms, she would have high fived herself!

Watching as the newest two legged freak grumbled under his breath as he made a third search of the living room, Karma cocked her head, straining to hear what new insults he'd managed to come up with to describe her. His desperation was obvious, she thought with no small amount of pride.

Call her a green scaly bitch, would he? Hmphhhh! This scaly bitch could be any color she wanted...all day long, Mr. Asshole.

And for his crime, she would show him all the bitch she could be.

Laughing to herself a half hour later as she watched the frenzied movements of a man demented, Karma cocked her head. Oh, yes, her owner was going to have this two legged human's haggard hide when she saw the mess he'd made of her apartment. After all, Penelope Garcia was almost as diabolical as she herself was.

Almost.

But not quite.

Crawling toward the end of the bed to take a look at the entertaining show the intruder was putting on in the living room, she cocked her head as the dark haired man threw the fuchsia throw pillows from the couch over his shoulder. His aim truly sucked, she winced to herself as the decorative cushion connected with a pewter vase on the table, sending it to the floor to crash into shards.

She did not want to be around when her owner demanded payment for that little catastrophe. Well, on second thought, maybe she did. She always did enjoy a good show, and that one would be sure to pay off in spades. Quality entertainment was in short supply these days. And an opportunity to watch a real life reality show unfold...yeah, she could get on board with that.

Survivor: Penelope Garcia Style!

Flicking her tail against the folded, bright quilt that Penelope always kept on the edge of the bed, Karma surveyed her surroundings while considering her options. Glancing over at the nearby window, she momentarily considered the great outdoors that was just beckoning through the glass. But as much as escape tempted her, she truly wanted to enjoy the festivities that were being played out before her.

And after all, why should she leave forever? Her Penelope would return. And she'd never find another human to care for her that was as colorful as Penelope. It was obvious by the example before her that the other members of the species were decidedly dull and destructive. But not her wonderful provider...it was nothing but bright hues coloring her days.

Blinking rapidly, she twitched from side to side as she carefully slithered down the quilt to the floor, shifting her coloring scheme to perfectly blend with what humans confused for groundcover. Her eyes landed quickly on the large hanging lamp in the far corner of the room with the talking box, and Karma couldn't help the chuckle that wanted to come out.

Perfect. Just the perch she needed to watch the doom and destruction occurring below.

_****/****_

"Damn, damn, DAMN," David Rossi growled irately as he lowered himself back to his knees to peer underneath the couch for the third time, squinting as he tried to distinguish any shapes moving ahead of him. "I should have taken freaking Morgan duty," he muttered to himself. "A gag for him and a bottle of Jack Daniels for me would have eliminated a potential problem," he grumbled.

Groaning as his knees protested the hard floor beneath him, Dave forced himself back to his feet, running a restless hand through his hair. "Hell, I should have just taken the damn bullet. It'd be preferable to chasing around a leapin' lizard!"

Blowing out a long breath as he cast a furtive look around the apartment, he shook his head. How the hell was he going to explain losing Garcia's precious pet to her? "C'mon, Karma," he pleaded, helplessly, "Fate is one capricious pain in the ass! Not something you wanna face alone!"

Great, he thought grouchily, now he'd been reduced to reasoning with reptiles. This was sooo not how he wanted to practice his negotiation skills.

Scrubbing a hand down his face, he inhaled deeply as he pondered his slippery dilemma. On one hand, if he called for help, he risked the wrath of one fiery vixen. But, on the other hand, he was well aware that failing to locate the AWOL lizard might very well mean his life.

"Well, shit," he mumbled under his breath, fishing his cell phone out of his jeans.

He really had no choice, did he? The best he could hope for at this rate was that the wily analyst would make his death quick and painless. Of course, if he knew his Kitten, there'd be nothing easy about his imminent demise. No, it would in all likelihood be a slow, torturous process. The woman's mind was only what could be described as diabolical. He'd seen her in action too many times to delude himself.

Pushing the button that would connect him with the owner of the apartment in which he stood, Dave waited. And waited. And waited. When her perky voice announced that he should leave a message after the beep, he groaned.

Seriously? Garcia had picked now to be unavailable?

Barely repressing the urge to slam his phone through a wall, Dave stomped through the living room again, tossing pillows and lifting magazines in a last ditch effort to find the other irritating inhabitant of this purgatory he found himself in while he stabbed Morgan's number into the phone.

And as he waited for his call to be picked up on the other end of the line, the hairs rose on the back of his neck ominously.

Because if he wasn't mistaken...and he knew he had to be...he could have sworn he heard that freaking lizard laughing at him.

* * *

_**PLEASE DON'T FORGET TO NOMINATE YOUR FAVORITE STORIES AND AUTHORS...TIME IS RUNNING OUT!**_


	3. Chapter 3

_**A/N - Hello. We have exactly **__**FOUR **__**days left to NOMINATE your favorite authors and stories in the second annual Criminal Minds Profiler's Choice Awards hosted by "Chit Chat on Author's Corner" forum. Random drawings for TWO $10.00 Amazon gift cards will be given to two lucky nominators. To be considered eligible, all you have to do is fill out a ballot in ten categories or more. Winners will be announced October 16, 2011! So **__**PLEASE**__**, take a trip to the forum and grab those ballots!**_

_**Also, sign-ups for the Criminal Minds Christmas Gift Fic exchange are up and running at the forum. Last year was super successful and we hope this year will be equally so. You have until October 31, 2011 to sign up at the forum. Details for both events are located there! Private message us with any questions!**_

_**And don't forget to friend "Ilovetvalot Fanfiction" on Facebook. We've got a huge collection of talented authors and readers alike just waiting to chat.**_

* * *

**Karma The Chameleon**

**Chapter Three**

Smiling loopily as he turned his head on the pillow to gaze into the sleeping face of Penelope Garcia, Derek Morgan sighed happily. Between being hopped up on those magic little pills the doc had given him at the hospital and his Baby Girl's enthusiastic interpretation of a naughty nurse, he was fairly certain nothing could ruin this perfect afternoon.

But as his little black phone vibrated insistently on the nightstand beside him, he wondered if maybe he hadn't been a little premature in those thoughts.

Casting a quick look at his own personal sleeping beauty, he grabbed the cell and slipped out of bed carefully, padding on bare feet into his living room. Grinning as he spotted Penelope's stethoscope draped over his lamp, he reached for it as he answered the phone.

"Morgan," he said, twirling the medical device around his fingers as he dropped down to the couch and propped his feet on the coffee table.

"Damn! It's about time!" a familiar gruff voice growled on the other end of the line. "Where the hell is Penelope?" the voice barked bluntly.

"Dude, seriously," Derek grimaced as Rossi's annoyed voice echoed in his sensitized ears, "you gotta slow your roll, man."

"Morgan," Dave growled, his deep voice heavy with threat as he reminded himself the younger man was injured, "did you just call me dude? And what the hell is a roll?"

"Ah, pull your panties outcha clenched cheeks, Rossi," Derek groaned, lifting a hand to massage his slightly aching temples. "You're harshing my buzz over here," he complained petulantly. "And mama's asleep and can't give me any more TLC for awhile."

Pulling a face as he realized just what kind of medical attention Garcia must have used to treat her reluctant patient, Rossi ran a hand down his face as he silently counted to ten.

"Seriously, man, you need to spend some time meditating on the Don't Worry, Be Happy philosophy," Derek grinned drunkenly, staring at his big toe as he wriggled it.

"Jesus, Morgan, you're stoned, aren't you?" Dave grimaced, looking around the kitchen floor furtively for that sneaky, slithering nuisance that Penelope had the audacity to deem as a pet.

Pressing a hand to his chest, Derek shook his head obstinately. "Am not. I'm just chillin' like a villain."

Sighing heavily as he leaned wearily against the counter, Dave moaned, "Christ, I hate my life. These are supposed to be my fucking golden years, asshole. I'm supposed to be living in the land of golf courses and neat scotches. Instead, I'm here," he said, looking around the cheery kitchen in disgust.

"We-llll," Derek drawled, watching his dancing toe, "nobody shot you today."

"I'd rather have taken the bullet," Rossi muttered under his breath, peering underneath the kitchen table as he tried to spot the infuriating lizard threatening his sanity.

Oh, look, Morgan thought happily as the light from the nearby lamp bounced off his toenail. Now that was something new! He tried to remember why this made him so happy, but he couldn't, so he just settled for living in the moment.

Hearing nothing but silence on the other end of the phone, Rossi groaned. Surely to God in heaven the man had not hung up on him. His day couldn't be getting that bad, could it? Pulling the phone away from his ear, he stared down at the screen, half-amazed to see that the call was still connected.

"Morgan!" Rossi growled loudly.

The recently shot and well medicated man jerked his head up as he heard his name being called. "Yo!" he answered cheerfully as he leaned his head back against the leather couch.

"Get. Garcia. On. The. Phone!" Rossi ordered, enunciating each word clearly as he hoped against hope that the man had the mental capacity to follow at least the simplest command.

Shaking his head, Morgan immediately regretted the action. "No can do, Chief-a-mundo," he singsonged. "My little mama needs her beauty rest if I'm gonna get to round two later. Ain't nothing gonna make me drag her out of bed. Do you have any idea what that woman can do with ice cream and her ton-…"

"I'm gonna interrupt you and beg you to stop before I have to kill you, Morgan. Unlike our unsub, I'm fairly certain I can still hit the bullseye if you catch my meaning," Dave groaned, pressing his hand to his head. "And what I have to say to her trumps your bedroom acrobatics, trust me. The freaking lizard's on the lam, man."

"Lizard's on the lamb," Morgan repeated, giggling wildly. "The liz-ard is on da lam!" he told his big toe, the digit wriggling in response to his statement.

"Oh, sweet Christ," Dave whispered, barely resisting the urge to bang his head against the brightly painted kitchen cabinet behind him. "Derek," Rossi muttered, striving for patience he no longer possessed, "I need you to stay with me here. You and I have a problem. It's name is Karma."

"Karma," Morgan echoed, nodding avidly. "Gotcha!"

"That's right. Do you remember who Karma is?" Dave asked, gripping the kitchen counter in a white knuckle grip.

"It's fate, man. Des-tin-y," Morgan howled.

"No, you jacked up jackass! It's Penelope's freaking lizard," Dave bellowed into the phone, his voice bouncing off the rafters.

"Ohhhhhh," Morgan gasped. "You mean Karma! Well why didn't you just say so?"

"Morgan," Rossi said tightly, "I'm trying very hard to resist the temptation to call Aaron and tender my resignation effective immediately. I'm pushing sixty years old and I'm crawling around the floor like a two year old in search of a reptile that in many countries would be considered BAIT! Let me talk to your girlfriend!"

"No can doooo, Bossy Rossi. You put 'er in a bad mood and my wee Willie Winkie doesn't get to come out and play," Morgan denied, shaking his head.

"You're dick isn't my problem! This freaking lizard is," Dave growled, his hackles rising as he caught a glimpse of something moving in the corner of his eye. Turning sharply, he dove toward the couch, catching his hip on the coffee table on the way down. "Oomph!" he gasped as sharp pain radiated up his side. "Mother Fuc-", he yelled, hissing as he felt a sharp sting pierce his finger as he missed the green varmint by mere millimeters.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Morgan frowned, pressing the phone to his ear. "What's the haps, Paps?" Morgan asked, hearing muffled curses renting the air through the phone line.

"Oh, nothing a little hip replacement surgery won't fix," Dave gasped, breathing hard as he rolled to his back. He'd been felled by a goddamn reptile. "The fucker bit me!" he yelped, lifting his finger in front of his face, a small dot of blood marring the puncture wound.

"Yeah," Morgan drawled as he nodded supportively. "Karma's a biter."

"Good to know, asshole," Dave grunted, trying to sit up. "Morgan, I'm gonna need backup here, kid. This lizard ain't goin' down easy."

"Dude," Morgan snorted, rolling his eyes and regretting the action immediately, "Just sing."

"Sing?" Dave echoed incredulously.

"Sing 'er song, man," Morgan said with a roll of his eyes. "You know! Karma, Karma, Karma, Karma, Karma Chameleeeeooooonnnnn, you come and go! You come and Gooooo!" Morgan warbled, his head bouncing to the imaginary music.

And as Dave stared at his phone, he knew one irrevocable truth.

This wasn't Purgatory.

This was hell.

* * *

_**PLEASE DON'T FORGET TO NOMINATE YOUR FAVORITE STORIES AND AUTHORS...TIME IS RUNNING OUT!**_


	4. Chapter 4

_**Author's Note: ATTENTION!**_** Several stories contending for nomination for the Profiler's Choice Awards hosted by Chit Chat on Author's Corner lack just ONE nomination. THIS IS THE LAST DAY THE NOMINATION PROCESS WILL BE OPEN. NOMINATIONS WILL CLOSE AT MIDNIGHT EDT ON OCTOBER 15, 2011(TODAY!) So, please, if you haven't already done so and would like to recognize your favorite stories and author's travel to the forum or our profile pages and pick up a nomination ballot. You still have several HOURS left.**

**Also, signups for the Christmas Fic Gift Exchange are still ongoing at the forum until 10/31/11. Please come on over and take a look. We'd love to see you all participate.**

* * *

**Karma The Chameleon**

**Chapter Four**

"Derek," Rossi said, gripping his phone in a white knuckled grip, the man's horrifying voice singing away. "Derek?" he repeated as the God awful noise continued, obviously now on a loop that would continue into infinity. "DEREK!" he roared, the need to stop that obnoxious warble a need that refused to be denied.

"That's me, my peep," Derek grinned on the other end of the line, propping his chin in his hand as he leaned against the sofa's arm. He'd never noticed exactly how brown his sofa was before. Very attractive shade, he thought to himself happily.

"Derek," Dave said shakily, rubbing his hand over his whiskered jaw, "I need to find this freaking lizard." Why couldn't this addled man grasp that failure wasn't an option. For either of them. "Garcia will kill me if I don't."

"Oh, yeah," Derek confirmed, bobbing his head. "Karma is the closest thing to a kid my Baby Girl has."

"Then help me," David hissed, his eyes darting frantically around the room.

"I aaa-mmmmm," Derek said, drawing out the word dramatically. "You gots to sing!"

"Morgan," Dave said sternly, closing his eyes against the sudden flash of pain in his head, "I am NOT serenading this reptile. I don't sing. And if I did sing, it would not be that crap you've been bellowing. It'd be Dean Martin...Frank Sinatra...one of the greats," he argued, pacing the kitchen.

"Yeah, but Fly Me to the Moon and That's Amore ain't Karma's jam," Morgan yawned, pressing his fingers to his lips. "Look, man, the drugs are kickin in hardcore."

"Morgan, I swear to God if you hang up this phone, the next bullet that goes in your body won't miss the vital organs," Dave threatened, prepared to carry out the violence himself. He was a dead man walking anyway if he couldn't manage to find the scaly varmint Penelope called a pet. He might as well take as many people down in a blaze of glory as he could manage.

And Derek Morgan had officially made the top of his hit list.

"Dude," Morgan sighed, "Just play the damn song."

"Dude," Rossi mimicked, his eyes narrowing, "I don't know the damn song!" Honestly, that bullet was going straight in the heart. God knew the guy didn't have a brain in his thick skull.

"Okay, okay, okay," Derek said quickly, his words slurring. "Here's whatcha do, Pooh..."

"Did you just call me Pooh?" Dave asked incredulously.

"Do you wanna solve the problem or not?" Derek whined, lifting an arm and propping it behind his head as he stared down his body at his stomach. "Man," he grinned, "I really do have a rockin' rack."

Grimacing, Dave pulled the phone away from his ear. He was going to need to drink bleach to get that image out of his mind. "Morgan," he begged, pressing the cell back to his ear, "Focus, please."

"On what?" Morgan asked blankly, stifling another yawn as his eyelids drooped.

"THE REPTILE!" Dave bellowed, his voice bouncing off the walls in the empty apartment. Cringing as he remembered Garcia's nosy neighbors, he lowered his voice. "Morgan, I lost the lizard, remember? You're going to help me find her." Hell, the damn green menace HAD to be a she. No male would ever be this damned obstinate.

"Oh, yeah," Morgan said brightly, snapping his fingers. "Karma the Chameleon. Just go play the song, Rossi. Easy, peasy!"

Sweet Jesus, he was trapped in a "Who's on First" skit and he could NOT find the fucking exit to this jacked up play. "Morgan, once more, what song? Where?" Dave asked desperately, yanking at his dark hair.

"Just go turn on the stereo," Morgan informed him easily. "It's preset to play. Just push the power button. Kick back on the couch. After a few choruses, she'll come a'runnin'," he assured the cranky profiler. "And take a chill pill, dude. Like I said, you have SERIOUSLY harshed on my buzzie mcbuzzerson!"

Hearing the line go suddenly dead, Dave's jaw dropped. Had that asshole actually hung up on him? Pressing his lips together as he impatiently threw his cell phone on the dining room table and stomped back into the cheerful living room, Dave scanned the walls for the stereo. "Aha!" he yelled triumphantly, although the feeling of achievement was transient.

Looking at the piece of equipment, Dave moaned again. Of course Garcia had a system that would rival NASA's mission control, he ranted silently to himself. Eye narrowing on a red button, Dave canted his head to the side. Red meant power on the cell phone. Maybe it would be true here as well.

Holding his breath, he quickly jabbed the button.

_Karma, Karma, Karma, Karma, Karma chameleon…You come and go, you come and go!...Loving would be easy if your colors were like my dreams...Red, gold and green, Red gold and greeeeennnnnn…_

"Oh, hell," he scowled, clapping his hands over his ears as the music continued to blare from the speakers. "What the hell is this crap?" he asked the plant to the left of him.

Thankfully, it didn't answer, but nothing at this point would have surprised him in this house of unknown horrors.

Blindly twisting dials until the volume lowered, he exhaled a sigh of relief. Walking back to Penelope's chintz sofa, he sat down.

And proceeded to drum his fingers against his thigh for the next hour.

Eyelids heavy, David Rossi stifled a yawn of his own as the damn song repeated for the sixtieth time. Reaching for a throw pillow on the floor to prop behind his now aching head, he flinched as a sharp set of teeth again pierced his flesh.

Eyes widening as he jerked his finger back, his mouth fell open as he raised Karma the Chameleon to eye level.

And then, he said the only words he could.

"Ain't Karma a bitch!"

And in that moment of stark reality, eye to eye with the elusive lizard intent on terrorizing his very life, David Rossi knew that he never had and never would speak truer words in his life.

And if he wasn't mistaken, he'd swear that damn lizard was grinning at him.

_**Finis**_


End file.
